Coming Home
by Murphy Kismet
Summary: Josh brings Donna home and, of course, a conversation ensues.


**TITLE: **Coming Home**  
AUTHOR: **Murphy Kismet  
**SUMMARY: **Josh brings Donna home and, of course, a conversation ensues.  
**RATING: **PG  
**SPOILERS:** Up to the fifth season finale.  
**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** First fic written for this fandom. If I've miswritten the characters, just let me know. Thanks.

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**Coming Home**

_By Murphy Kismet_

_October 25, 2004  
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It shouldn't have come as a shock. But it did anyway.

After all, he did send her there himself. Handed the paper to her himself. Uttered the words to her himself. Sent her off—on her own—himself. Away from him. Away from his hungry gaze and twitching hands.

So, really, he should not have been surprised to see the man come strolling down the hallway, a backpack slung over a shoulder and a bouquet in hand.

He should not have been surprised as the man had leaned over and touched his lips to hers much longer than a simple chaste, between-friends kiss.

He should not have been surprised when the man stayed when she was suddenly rushed off to surgery for a second time.

He should not have been surprised, and yet he was.

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"You slept with him."

It was the first non-comforting words he uttered to her since her return to Washington.

While he'd been in Germany, he'd stayed dutifully by her bedside, getting glasses of water, feeding her little bits of food, fending off sadistic nurses who tried valiantly to draw yet more blood. I mean, how was a patient supposed to 'relax' with all the interruptions? Twice Donna had had to tell him to settle down, that she was old enough to fend for herself. He'd looked at her with a mixture of hurt (that she wouldn't allow him to be her white knight in shining armor), surprise (that she would tell him—_him_—what do to), and confusion (what really _was _his role in Germany, so far away from the White House and the constant prying eyes of reporters).

During all that time, there'd been a sort of moratorium on any discussion that threatened to head in any direction even remotely related to any of Donna's possible non-work dalliances. It was simply a verboten topic.

And the carefully orchestrated _platonic _nurturing continued. Sure there were touching of hands in moments of pain, and intimate conversations that didn't dare delve into _actual _intimacies of each other. It was all held above-ground in safer, more temperate zones.

But during all that time, Josh's eyes kept glancing toward the door, expecting a certain visitor at any time, not really believing that Colin had actually returned home. In the weeks that Donna had stayed in Germany recuperating, never—_not once—_was there any mention of why Josh would have flown half way around the world for an _assistant,_ offering snippy comments and keen questions to any and all that came within five feet of her bed.

Or why he'd stayed on until she was finally released and sent home for more recuperation with Josh following dutifully behind.

But in the relative safety Donna's apartment, the one question that had burned a whole in his heart came jutting out like a jagged rock, piercing their tenuous familiarity. Her sharp glance his way coupled with her wide-eyed and shocked response to the sheer audacity of such a question at such a time drove home the reality that it really wasn't his right to ask. Josh had staked no claim to her being. Being 'his assistant' didn't preclude Donna from a relationship outside of their professional one. 'Boss' was not synonymous with 'husband'.

"Josh…"

"Forget it."

"Josh… you can't ask that. Not like that."

"You're right, I'm sorry." He turned around to stare out the window. "So, you're home," he said in a voice too jovial, "how does it feel?"

"Fine," came her curt voice, as she sat stiffly on her couch, unable to find a really comfortable position.

He looked back at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "You're not happy?"

"Why should I be?"

Now his eyebrows rose. "'Cause… you're home? 'Home sweet home'?"

"Not funny, Josh." Donna shifted her body on the couch to turn away from him. A soft curse of pain could be heard and Josh just barely saw her face contort in pain before she was perfectly hidden from him. "This… is just a place. An apartment. With furniture. It's… no longer home."

His mind spun with all the possibilities of her answer and settled on one particularly unpleasant thought: that she might actually miss Colin—even though it was Josh's name she called out upon awakening. It was just something he couldn't allow himself to accept. So he rejected it with as much force as he applied in getting people over to his side—with acerbic acumen. "So… where would home be?"

"Yes."

Josh blinked. "Pardon me?"

Donna turned toward him. The light from the city silhouetted his form perfectly in her window. With his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his head cocked to one side and his clothes all askew, he might have been a modern and tormented angel come to rescue her. But instead it was just Josh, his perpetual confused self when it came to women.

Donna sighed. "Yes Josh, I slept with Colin. Are you happy now? We had sex. Long and hard sex." She looked away. "I miss that. You know, being with someone. Having them want to be with me."

"Donna…"

"No. You don't have the right Josh. It's my life. I can do what I want and no matter how hard you try to sabotage it, it's still my life and I will live it. With, or without you."

Josh felt himself swallow hard. Those words were his nightmare. _Without you._

"Why?"

"Because it's my life, Josh. I may work for you but you do not own me."

"Donna…" He shifted feet.

"We can do this two ways: you can step back and let me have a life unimpeded by your sick form of possessive jealousy, or you can…"

"I can what?"  
"Come with me."

His eyes flittered around the room, seeking any non-threatening point to rest them. There were none. "Um, where?"

"With me, Josh." She wanted to stand up. She wanted to go to him, to touch him and feel him. She could almost feel his body vibrating with tension all the way to the couch. Frustration was the least of her emotions—she was used to being kept at a distance from him. Even in the hospital she had felt that imaginary line that neither of them dared cross. It was there before them again and now Donna dared cross it. Only she could only cross it with her words, enticing Josh to cross it with his body. "You stayed in Germany with me."

"Yes."

"You didn't have to."

"No."

"You were needed back in Washington. In fact, you didn't have to come at all. But you did."

He gulped. "Yes."

"Why?"

He stared at her, his eyes so wide with panic Donna feared he'd bolt for the door any moment now. His eyes never left hers but she could still sense his trepidation. She'd pushed him into territories they'd both fought so hard to stay clear of. Now she presented it to him with an openness he almost couldn't deny. Almost.

"I… You… needed a friend."

Slowly Donna nodded her head. "Yes, I did."

"So… I came."

She pushed some more. "But you stayed."

"Donna! What was I supposed to do, leave you there alone?"

Another push. "I had Colin." His body jerked. "And my mother was there too."

His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, working wordlessly.

"Josh," she asked slowly, "why did you stay?"

"I…"

"Just say it," she whispered.

"Donna…" His voice was so strained, it almost squeaked.

"Say it…"

"I…" he swallowed, rearranging his hands in his pockets even deeper, if that were possible.

Donna sighed and turned away. "You can go now Josh. I'll be fine." Her hands rested on her crutches.

"Donna—"

"Just go."

She heard him begin to shuffle his feet. It was a moment later when she felt the couch dip beside her and then his fingers were on her arm, gently touching her. "Donna… we can't."

"Why not?"

"We work together—it would be… suspect."

She turned to him. "Did you know that half the people we work with—no, make that most of the people we work with already assume something is going on?"

Sam was right: Josh had a really bad poker face. "They do?"

"Yes."

"But… how? I mean—"

Donna shrugged. "They just do. I don't know…"

His fingers dropped from her arm to rest along her wrist. If he was aware of it, he made no show. "Donna…" his head dropped and he took a deep breath. His head snapped back up and his eyes searched hers. "If they know, I mean think, and nothing was said or done then…"

"It probably wouldn't be that bad."

"No, it probably wouldn't be."

Now he was holding her hand softly. "Your leg…"

She nodded. "It hurts."

He leaned over. "And your face?"

"A bit sore."

"What about your lips?"

She licked them. "They're… fine."

He leaned in more. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she whispered against his lips just before they touched hers and her eyes closed.

Never before had she been kissed so softly and so… reverently. It was the only word she could find to describe how Josh moved so gently against her, giving her little kisses that made up the whole of one long kiss. When his hand came up to cup her cheek, he was very careful not to press too hard against the bruises, just the tips of his fingers caressed her sore skin sending shivers along her body. And when he gingerly ran them through her hair she couldn't help but moan at the deliciously sweet sensations of being touched so tenderly by Josh.

His sharp intake let her know just how hard it was for him not to take it farther as he pulled away from her bit by bit. First his lips left hers as he rested his forehead against hers and then his hand came out of her hair to trail lightly down her cheek. His thumb came around to rub against the wetness on her lips. In a bold move she touched the tip of her tongue to this thumb and rejoiced in the hiss that accompanied her move.

"Donna…"

How she had longed to hear her name being whispered with such painful longing from the lips of Josh. "It's okay."

"No. God, I… I want you."

"I know. I mean, me too."

"Why—"

She shushed with her fingers against his lips. He kissed them. "Don't. It doesn't matter."

"When you're better…"

"Yes, when I'm better. We'll—"

"I'll show you why I stayed in Germany with you."

"Yes."

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THE END


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